Human
by kitkatsaymeow
Summary: Every day he abused me. Every single day, I came with new bruises and scars. And no one knew. I kept it quiet as didn't tell anyone. And no one guessed anything was wrong at all, not even my best friend. Not until Jack Brewer. But I couldn't tell him the truth about my dad and my scars. He was a jock and a jerk. He could never be the one for me. But I'm only human...


**Here's a new story, guys! I'm not going to go into detail about it, just give you the story, but have fun and I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Human**

I dragged myself into the shower, barely restraining my tears. Clutching the handle, I wrenched on the hot water and sat huddled against the shower wall, my arms around my knees. Finally my sobs came tumbling out, muffled by my arms.

I cried and cried until there were no more tears, and then I set to cleaning myself. I scrubbed my skin of every trace of _HIM_.

By the time I finished, the hot water had run out so I dried myself, threw on some pjs, and crawled into bed. My dad would be out and drunk at some bar somewhere at this time.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I curled up and tried to avoid the memories. As my mind relaxed, I drifted off to sleep. But as I descended into subconsciousness, my brain began to play nasty tricks on me. It replayed everything that had happened that day over and over, and I was aware of screaming throughout the night, all alone.

* * *

I walked stiffly into Seaford High for my first day, trying not to move anything too fast. Believe me, it only took the first day of the abuse to figure out how to walk without seeming weird but also in such a way as to protect my muscles.

But yesterday he had been so brutal, and every time I took a step my limbs ached and protested.

I walked toward the front office to get my schedule and locker combo. There was a girl with brown hair sitting at the desk, and she looked up and grinned when I walked in.

"Hi," she chirped. "I'm Grace. Can I help you?"

I shifted my feet slightly. "I'm Kim Crawford. I just moved here. I came to get my papers. Is...um.." I tried to remember the name of the principal, "Miss Stratford here?"

Grace nodded and jerked a thumb behind her. "Yeah, she's back there. I'm her assistant; I do it for extra credit cause she teaches my history class and...I'm kinda failing."

I chuckled. "I know the feeling."

Grace blinked. "You're failing history?"

"No," I shook my head. "At my old school I was failing Algebra 2. I got A's in history."

"I'm getting A's in math! I could tutor you, and you could tutor me," Grace suggested, twirling a pencil in her long fingers. I got a glance of blue nail polish. "If, of course, that's okay with you. I mean, you just met me—"

"No, um, that'd be great," I said, managing a half-smile. God, it still hurt from where my father smacked me. "As long as we do it here or your house."

Grace cocked her head curiously. "Yeah, um, sure. May I ask why?"

I frowned. "I'd rather not say."

Grace nodded. "Alright then. Miss Stratford is back there. You can go see her."

"Thanks, Grace."

I walked past the desk and into another office, where I caught sight of a young woman on the phone, one hand tucked under the phone and the other shuffling with papers on the desk. She held up her finger to let me know to hang on, and I cautiously took a seat opposite her desk.

"No, we can't. I–no, you listen. I've got enough on my plate. Tell Jeremy he can handle it, but I'm not going to take responsibility for that. No. Yes, that'd be fine. Thank you, Sarah, that'll be all."

Miss Stratford set the phone down on the receiver and reached up to rub her temples. She sighed.

"I'm sorry, I had something that I had to deal with. You must be Kimberly Crawford." She stuck out her hand and I stood up and reached out to shake it.

"You can call me Kim," I said, sitting back down. My sweatshirt was long enough so it covered my hands, for which I was grateful. I had tiny bruises there from my father and I didn't want to have to lie and lead her to be suspicious about me. That would only bring trouble, and a beating so intense it might kill me.

I shivered, and looked up to see Miss Stratford looking at me oddly.

"Are you alright?" She asked. I put on a smile and nodded.

"Sorry, I just zoned out," I said and put a laugh in to make it seem believable.

Miss Stratford relaxed and leaned back in her chair.

"Now," she said. "Let's get down to business."

* * *

I walked down the flight of stairs and over to a set of lockers.

"669, 700, 701," I mumbled to myself. "Ah, here it is. 703."

I opened my locker and dumped some stuff in. As I tried to slam the door, my jacket and hat and gloves tumbled out. Cursing, I knelt down very carefully to retrieve them. And I tried—I did—but a scary realization dawned on me that I could not bring my body to do it. I couldn't sit down and reach out to grab my stuff.

Tears of frustration appeared in my eyes, and I pounded a fist on my locker in rage. If only my dad were dead. If he didn't exist, none of this would be happening. As it were, he was very much alive and reminded me of it every day.

I felt a salty drop of water trail down my cheek, and as I almost gave up hope, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

Turning, I saw a black haired boy. He wore almost biker leathers and his hair was styled in somewhat of a Mohawk.

"Hey blondie, you Kim Crawford?" He asked.

I nodded and blinked my tears away. "Yeah. And who are you?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "Jerry Martinez. I'm supposed to show you around. So let's go."

He turned and began to stalk away.

"Wait!" I called. He turned back and sighed.

"What." It wasn't even a question. Just an annoyed statement.

With all my strength, I reached out and shoved everything back in my locker, slamming it. I bit my lip hard to keep from screaming in agony. Copper exploded onto my tongue. Great. Another thing to worry about.

I grabbed my backpack and followed Jerry down the hall, gritting my teeth. Now that one part of me hurt, the rest seemed to want to get in on the action, leaving me a mess. I wanted to cry, but this wasn't the time or the place. I needed to keep it together. _Keep it together, Kim!_

Jerry walked me through doors, up stairs, and around winding hallways. I was so confused, so I just followed him.

Eventually he turned around and actually looked surprised to see me.

"Oh, you're still here," he said.

"Uh, yeah," I snapped, already in a bad mood from the pain that wracked my body. "You're supposed to be showing me around."

Jerry sighed again, a sound I was beginning to hate. "Fine, just follow me."

We entered a classroom and there I saw five boys, four of them surrounding another, dressed in black jeans and a leather jacket over a tight T-shirt. The others were dressed similarly. I noticed the boy who was the leader had shaggy brown hair and chocolate eyes that I'm sure many girls would melt at. I felt my heart race when he looked at me.

"Jerry, this your bitch?" He asked, taking out a cigarette package and passing it around so each of the boys could take one.

My eyebrow went up in disgust and any of the feelings I had for him before went out the window.

"Excuse me?" I demanded, stepping closer. "I'm not his bitch and my name is Kim. He's showing me around the school."

"So a newbie, huh?" He said casually, leaning back and lighting the cigarette. The other boys did the same, as if this boy controlled them and they did exactly as he wanted.

The boy blew smoke in my face. Immediately I jerked away and began coughing, waving it away from my face. I tripped over Jerry's foot and was sent sprawling backwards.

I cried out as I struck the ground and ground my teeth to keep from full-out screaming. Red flashed through my vision.

"I'm Jack," the boy said, sitting up. "Jack Brewer."

I sat up carefully, clutching my stomach and suddenly had a flashback.

_He kicked my abdomen hard and I screamed as pain blossomed. He sneered and shouted, "Get up! Get up and take your punishment."_

_I cried softly and tried not to move. I pretended like I was unconscious, but he didn't believe it. He dragged me up by my arm and immediately began to hit and slap me. My hair was matter with blood, and I was sure something somewhere was broken. _

"Blondie?" Jack questioned, breaking me out of my stupor. I slowly stood up, grimacing. Grabbing my backpack, I walked toward the door.

"Hey, come back blondie!" Jack called, amused. "It couldn't have hurt that much."

I clenched my jaw and stalked out, not looking back. As I rounded the corner—not knowing where I was going—I was suddenly sent tumbling back as I slammed into someone.

Brown hair flashed in my vision.

"Grace!" I gasped. She had dropped all her books, and I bent down to help her pick them up. "I'm so sorry!"

"No it's okay, I wasn't looking where I was going," she apologized. "What're you doing here?"

I bit my lip. "Jerry Martinez was showing me around, but I ran into a bunch of jerks and after they taunted me, I just left. I don't even know where I'm going."

Grace chuckled. "Let me see your schedule."

I handed it to her, and she smiled.

"I'm in ALL your classes!" She cried.

I grinned. Finally, a friend.

"I can show you to your classes if you want," she offered. I nodded.

"Thanks so much, Grace," I said. "I doubt Jerry's going to be of any help from here on out."

She nodded. "Of course. So let's go!"

She took my arm and started dragging me down the hallway, talking about the teachers and the classes, but all I could think about was that Jack Brewer kid. More like Jerk Brewer. And the way he looked at me, as if he could see through me, unnerved me. What if he knew...?

No. That's impossible. No one knew.

I shook my head to clear it and followed Grace, trying to quell the anxiety welling in my gut.

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**Thanks for reading, and I hope to update soon! **

**—Kit Kat**


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